


Disguises and Illusions

by AmunetMana



Series: In the Mirror [3]
Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Asgard, Bisexual Thor, F/F, Gen, Gender Dysphoria, Lesbian Sif, Spells & Enchantments, Transgender
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-10
Updated: 2018-05-10
Packaged: 2019-05-04 19:57:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14600559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmunetMana/pseuds/AmunetMana
Summary: Loki's discovery makes Thor grow desperate. The lies grow heavier, and the fear increases.When Loki suddenly presents a solution, it becomes almost impossible for Thor to refuse.





	Disguises and Illusions

**Author's Note:**

> A sequel?? After five years?? It's more likely than you think.

The siblings didn’t speak for a long while after Loki had made his discovery. Thor had been sick with fear over what his brother may choose to do, who he may choose to tell. Barely able to speak to his friends, his parents; Thor had feigned illness and withdrawn to his chambers. He disposed of the dress as hurriedly as he was able, too worried to have it in his presence, in his rooms. Maybe Thor could have convinced anyone who came into his room that it had been left there by someone else, but it felt too risky. He used to think his room was a safe place to be, but if Loki could burst in, what was to stop anyone else? If Thor forgot to lock the door once, it could happen again. Locks didn’t even stand in the way of some people in the palace.

 

It occurred to Thor eventually that if Loki were to tell, he would not be believed, but… but the seed would be sown, people would notice, people would think, talk… one mistake from Thor, and everything he'd spent centuries building up would crash around him in shattered pieces.

 

And Loki thought himself the god of lies.

 

Thor was curled up on his bed, face buried in his pillows, when someone burst into his room, without knocking. He flew up from the bed immediately, heart thumping fearfully even with the dress long gone. He turned to glare at the intruder, and his heart stopped at the sight of Loki.

 

"What do you want?!" Thor demanded, voice low and rough. Loki barely deigned to meet Thor's eyes, however, closing the door securely behind him. Magic danced over his fingers, feeding into the lock, before he reached out to drag Thor from the bed. “What are you doing?” Thor yelled, landing in a tangled mess on the floor with his bedsheets. He was left to begrudgingly untangle himself whilst Loki paced back and forth in front of him.

 

"It took me so long to find something like this," Loki was muttering, so quiet it might as well have been to himself, "it should work, I'll _make_ it work…” He finally bent down to pull Thor up. Loki was uncannily strong when he really wished to be; Thor was unable to escape his grasp, even once up, even as Loki marched him across his room. He didn't stop until Thor was in front of the _accursed_ mirror, gazing at his own face. His beard was thickening from neglect, and long blonde strands of his hair were plastered across his cheeks. His clothing was rumpled and stretched across taut, lean muscles. He was a mess, from top to bottom and, for the first time, looked every bit as miserable as he felt. Then there were cool hands creeping across his gaze, and he called out again, the same rough voice, "Loki, if this is a jest…"

 

"Hush," Loki whispered, and a rush of cold, golden magic swept over Thor's body, leaving him shivering.

 

"Brother, stop this, I – "

 

And suddenly, the hands were gone from his eyes, and he was captured by the reflection in the mirror. But it couldn’t have been right. What he was seeing couldn’t be real, had to be a taunt, because not even Loki, not even silvertongue-liesmith- _treacherous_ Loki could be so _cruel_...

 

Female. The face that gazed back at him was female.

 

His hair was unchanged, as were his clothes, but the face, the features, even his arms were different and changed. Slender, softer. Not warrior-hard and toned like Sif's even, but a real maiden. More akin to Frigga in her younger days.

 

"What is this?" Thor asked, and his voice trembled. "Is this a jest to you? A means to belittle and taunt me?"

 

Loki ran his hands across Thor's back, stroking soothing patterns into the skin there, through the fabric. "I've been practising this just for you," Loki told him in a low, soothing murmur, "it's better than what you were doing before, is it not? This way, you can dress up, I can take you to a feast, you can…"

 

"Loki, _stop!!"_

 

Thor ripped away from Loki, watching in the mirror as the illusion melted away, and something in him cracked at the loss, as hard muscle and bulk appeared again. "Loki, why are you doing this?" Thor demanded, breath hitching in panic and strain, "don't you… you have _no idea_ how long, how _hard_ I've worked to… " _Hide this._

 

“Maybe I simply want to show off my sister to the rest of Asgard,” Loki said delicately, and for all that he was clearly trying to find the right words to use, they were _wrong wrong wrong_ and Thor had worked _too damn hard_ for Loki to ruin everything now with some spiteful trick.

 

“Do not jest about this brother!” Thor snapped at him, hands balling into fists as he kept his eyes focused on Loki, refusing to allow himself to look elsewhere, least of all into the mirror. If he dared to look there, he might allow himself to imagine the face Loki had shown him, only to be met with his own reflection. He couldn’t forgive himself or Loki for that.

 

“Loki, you could…” Thor took in a deep shuddering breath and his voice dropped to a whisper, “You could _ruin_ me with this. Ruin everything I’ve spent so long trying to…” he couldn’t continue, and he cursed himself inwardly, biting down on his lip. Loki’s face was a smooth, understanding expression, one that Thor wanted to believe was sincere, but couldn’t help wanting to punch at the same time.

 

"Leave," Thor told him quietly. Loki looked at him, _shocked_ of all things, and anger bubbled in Thor. " _Leave!!_ " Thor screamed, electricity crackling out around him. Loki stumbled back, eyes wide, and fled from the room. Thor returned to his bed, collapsing down on it. And only then did hot, shamed tears trickle down his cheeks. The trickle became a rush, and soon it felt as though all of the tears he’d held back over the centuries were pouring out of him. Thor didn’t know how long he cried for, only that somewhere in the midst of his own personal storm, cool hands came to rest on his forehead and shoulder. Loki did not stroke his hair, he did not move. He simply sat beside Thor’s prone figure, offering comfort in the only way he could.

 

He stayed even when Thor’s tears were spent, and it was only shudders that ran through his thick frame. It had never felt _good_ , or _right_ being in his body, but what Loki had shown him, what Thor saw that could have been, had set every nerve alight, pain ratcheting through his body. Maybe that had been his intention, Thor thought dully. Maybe Loki meant to kill him. It felt enough like dying.

 

Didn’t dying men get last wishes?

 

“How am I supposed to believe you won’t betray me?” Thor asked dully. The pressure of Loki’s hands increased for a moment, before he retracted his touch altogether. Thor told himself he didn’t miss the comfort.

 

“I wouldn’t do that to you, sister.”

 

“Stop.”

 

Loki stopped.

 

“Maybe it doesn’t matter,” Thor answered himself, twisting his head to stare dully at his fingers, meaty and alien even after living with them all his life. “Maybe it was always going to happen like this. Maybe this is the way it _should_ happen.” Loki stayed silent. Thor didn’t know what he was waiting for - Loki always had something to say. Always. Thor forced himself to sit up, keeping his face turned firmly away from Loki. He didn’t know what his brother’s face showed. He didn’t want to. “There’s a feast in three days’ time,” Thor told him, “for the men returning from battles. La - the ladies of court enjoy frequenting it, to meet with the soldiers.” No point pretending he didn’t know these things, no matter his practised disinterest in them. Thor the Prince didn’t care for parties that weren’t in his honour. Thor the Prince didn’t care for soldiers, only for the glory of his own battle. “Will that be enough time?”

 

Thor heard a rustle behind him, and a spot on his back tingled, as though he was being touched. It receded, and Thor wondered if Loki would ever touch him again.

 

“More than enough,” Loki said quietly, and Thor pretended he wasn’t cracking into pieces as Loki left.

 

~

 

It was a mistake. It was a hideous mistake, _Gods_ , what was he thinking, what madness had possessed him that – Loki’s door opened in front of him, and Thor was yanked into his room. Loki’s grip softened the second he was inside, however, gentle and careful as he closed the door, peering into Thor’s face carefully once they were fully in private.

 

“I worried you would stand there all night,” he said mildly, and Thor ducked his head.

 

 _I’m scared_ , Thor didn’t say. _I am so scared_. He let Loki lead him forward and push him gently into a chair. Thor watched Loki rummage in a draw, pulling out a length of dark fabric. Thor recoiled when he realised what it was. “Loki, Loki _no_ – ”

 

“I want this to be a surprise for you,” Loki said firmly, tying the blindfold around Thor’s eyes. Thor bit down on his words, allowing Loki to take his hands. He could rip off the blindfold if he needed to. At any time. Loki hadn’t tied it tightly. Loki pulled Thor to his feet, leading him gently to the middle of the room. Loki’s hands moved softly and surely, finding the ties to Thor’s clothes, spiriting them away almost noiselessly. Thor’s breath hitched.

 

“Loki…”

 

Loki shushed him gently, running gentle fingers along Thor’s shoulder, touching his cheek gently. Then he was gone again, and seconds stretched into an eternity in the darkness, until Thor felt soft fabric being wound about his body. It was cool to touch, and loose in a way Thor hadn’t known, from his shameful experiences. Loki dressed him carefully, guiding him wordlessly as was needed, metal jingling as jewellery was added at the end, including a belt that looped snugly but not painfully around his waist. Loki’s fingers moved to the blindfold –

 

“ _Don’t open your eyes_ ,”

 

 – was whispered beside his ear. Thor _so_ wanted to disobey. But Loki was running a brush through his hair, smoothing out the tossing and turning Thor had been doing for the past few days, deft hands pulling back the threads. Thor lost touch with the specifics, lost in the gentle brush of fingers. The strands of his hair tickled against his neck, the silk of the dress whispered against his skin. He was _alight_. Not the burn of shame, not the heavy, guilty weight of it all on his chest, but _light_. Lightning on clouds and the soft patter of rain. Loki made a noise behind him, and Thor felt something settle onto his head.

 

“Well then,” Loki said, sounding nervous. Thor’s pulse raced. “You better take a look.”

 

For all Thor had riled against the blindfold, for all he’d wanted to look - it took time for him to find the courage to crack his eyes open. It was not even, as Thor had half suspected it might be, a dress enhanced with armour as so many were. Sif was proud to display her warrior side even as she donned long, sweeping dresses for feasts; the necklines wrought with metal, the fabrics silvery metallic shades and designs that mimicked chain mail.

 

The dress Loki had...procured for him was nothing like that. It hung in elegant swaths around him from shoulder to shoulder, his arms bare but for the silver jewellery glittering on them. The skirt was long, draping around his legs and pooling on the floor. An almost-train extended a little behind him.

 

The colours were soft, shades of blue and green (the latter being Loki's direct influence, he had no doubt) and made a cool, calm contrast to the vibrant red of his normal clothing. It looked good on him, Thor realised, even whilst he appeared male. For so long he’d been squeezing himself into stolen (borrowed) dresses that were clearly alien and wrong on his figure, driving his self-loathing to new extents but this...this suited him. Made him look right, even when he saw his own face above it and not the female features Loki could produce for him. The thought made him shiver.

 

Loki appeared over his shoulder, hands perched there delicately, like Thor was made of something fragile. The thunderer wondered if Loki could feel the tremors in him.

 

“There,” his trickster brother said softly, and stroked a hand along Thor’s cheek. Thor’s eyelids fluttered shut and when they reopened, it was the delicate face and body from before that greeted him. Even looking down at his - _her_ self, not in the mirror, it was soft, supple limbs that emerged from beneath the dress, delicate hands and the soft swell of breasts beneath the bodice. Thor could have cried with happiness. She raised a hand to her hair, curling over her shoulders, and woven through with flowers and silver thread. It felt real. It felt so, so real.

 

Even if Thor was to die, or be exiled in shame, she would never regret this. Loki had given her everything. She tried to find the words for it – anything, any words or scrap of gratitude she could hope to express, to even begin to cover the magnitude of this. Loki spotted her lips as they fluttered, and a spell seemed to break over him.

 

“Well,” he exclaimed, taking a step back, “it appears I have found a treasure. I would be remiss in my duties if I did not escort you to your proper place, my Lady.” he smiled, roguish and enticing, and Thor suddenly grasped the attraction young women could have to him, for all his practised deviance. Thor’s lips curved in a smile, small and shy. She was made-new and unsteady on her feet. She could – she could be anyone, tonight.

 

“My Prince,” she said softly, and sunk into a curtsey, gaze downcast. Peeking back up, she found Loki wearing an expression that looked nothing short of charmed. He offered his arm, wordless for once, and Thor looped hers in it, and allowed herself to be guided out.

 

It was as though the world had been born anew with her. The palace was fully decorated for the feast, twinkling lights lining the hallways, bathing everything in a golden glow, soft and warm. It formed a glittering world, interspersed every so often with hidden corners. Thor’s gaze lingered on them, even as Loki tugged her along, although he smiled at her, secretive and mischievous as he noticed her gaze. Thor found herself returning the smile, heart beating fast and furious in her chest. Loki deviated their path, abruptly, and Thor opened her mouth to ask - before snapping it shut again. Whatever Loki was planning, she – just for tonight – she trusted him. Nonetheless, her grip on his arm tightened, and she pressed closer.

 

“It’s a shame I cannot make it known that I am your brother,” Loki murmured as they entered the hall. “I feel I may have to reign a little hell over so many making _eyes_ at my sister.”

 

Thor barely heard him, captivated by the sprawling feast and festivities. A number of people were sat at the long tables, eating, but even more were dancing and laughing, clustered in elegant groups, glittering in decorative armour and jewel colours. The swishing of silky fabrics, and the whip of hair through the air as pairs spun about, forgoing traditional dances for giddy, childish fun. Thor ached to join them - but even as she stepped forward, intending to drag Loki with her, but she saw the warriors three, chatting away together. Thor stepped back. She didn’t say anything, but Loki noticed anyway, following her gaze. He frowned.

 

“Oafs,” he muttered, and waved his fingers. Volstagg, at that moment chewing on a leg of what had once been a chicken, suddenly bent over, clutching his stomach. The others looked at him with concern as he started to turn green, before they rushed him out of the room. Loki smirked widely, and turned to Thor, almost for a moment looking eager for approval.

 

“Thank you,” she murmured to Loki, sincere in her gratitude. Thor had always sided with the Warriors Three before, from the moment she had sensed it earned her credibility in her lie. Steer away from unmanly Loki, and even from Sif – unless masked with flirting. It had twisted her up inside when she’d realised she hadn’t actually minded the flirting. Thor glanced around the room, realising she hadn’t yet spotted Sif. Odin and Frigga were on their thrones – Thor very pointedly did _not_ look in their direction. Loki’s spells were powerful – they’d fooled their parents many times before. But it felt like a jinx waiting to happen – a temptation for fate that Thor couldn’t risk. Then, she saw her.

 

Sif was across the room, laughing with two of the soldiers. She was not even in a dress that night, instead wearing fine leather leggings, and a golden tunic that glowed and winked in candlelight beneath a fur-lined cloak. Her boots were gilded gold and silver, as were the gauntlets she wore. She was dressed more similarly to the men than the women, but it did nothing to alter her femininity. Thor was breathless at the sight of her.

 

Loki glanced at Thor, following her eyeline. His dark eyebrows shot up, and he looked back at Thor again sharply. Thor wondered if he was weighing up the risk, or if he was judging Thor for being so enraptured by another woman. As if sensing Thor’s thoughts, Loki sighed, and stepped to the side.

 

“Well,” he said, “it is not as though I have limited myself to only the women of the court.” Thor looked at him with wide eyes. There – there were always _rumours_ , but – Loki met her eyes, something soft in them. “Go on,” he said. “Go meet with your lady.” He glanced about. “I’ll be sequestering myself away in any case,” he murmured turning back to Thor, “making sure nothing goes awry.” Thor’s heart thumped. The plan – sketchy as it was – had required them to stay close by each other to better enhance the spell’s effectiveness. It wouldn’t have been a hardship. Thor loved her brother, and until now had not granted that love the time and dedication it deserved. But she looked back at Sif, and her heart thumped again. Loki laughed beside her. “Go on,” he grinned, giving Thor a gentle push. “I’ll meet with you again when you are _quite_ done with her.”

 

Thor reached out to squeeze Loki’s hand, and the sibling smiled at each other, secretive and close before Loki took off with jaunty steps, and Thor picked up her skirts to head towards Sif.

 

Thor had almost reached her when Sif looked up and their eyes met, electricity sparking through Thor’s body. Sif stared, before turning to her companions. “If you’ll excuse me,” she told them, polite but firm, and they wandered of, looking faintly bemused at the abrupt end to the conversation. And then Sif was moving towards Thor, meeting her halfway.

 

“Forgive me,” Sif began, peering into Thor’s face, “I don’t think I know you. Are you new to the palace?”

 

Thor understood abruptly and intimately the thrill Loki must feel in his clever disguises. “In a way,” she said carefully, and as before her voice was decided female, and she revelled in the sound. “The Prince invited me to the party. Prince Loki…? He said it would be alright.” Sif’s eyes widened faintly, before she gave a small laugh.

 

“Say no more,” she said, grinning at Thor, and reaching out to boldly loop their arms together. “If he tries to draw you into any mischief, let me know,” she told Thor seriously, as they began to walk about the room. “I promise to save you from any misdeeds he may be planning. Thor found herself torn. The offer was…Sif’s offer flooded her with warm feeling, heart drunk on it as it beat so loudly Thor was sure Sif would feel it, unprotected by armour - even decorative armour - as she was. But it hurt, too. To know that this was what was thought of Loki. Thor wondered if Loki knew - well of course he knew, Loki seemed to know everything. If ever he found something he _didn’t_ know, he needed only a day in the library and he’d emerge and expert. Thor wondered if Loki did it deliberately, or if the bad feelings of the court hurt him.

 

“I’m sure he doesn’t mean any harm,” Thor settled on finally, “he was kind to invite me. And has made no effort to keep me to himself or stop me from having fun.” she smiled at Sif, hoping it wasn’t too much. “But thank you for your offer,” she insisted, “and should I need to be rescued – from _anything_ – you will be the first I call.”

 

Sif smiled at her brightly. “Fun? Is that what we’re having?” she asked, apparently delighted, and Thor was suddenly struck that she was not the only one flushed in the cheeks, with warmth in her eyes. Could Sif – no, that was…but, _maybe_ …

 

“Yes,” Thor said, firmly. Then, with her own smile, “but we would surely have even more fun dancing.”

 

Smiles were infectious that night, and Sif was _beaming_ as she took to Thor’s suggestion with gusto, grabbing both of Thor’s hands and pulling her onto the dancefloor, wrapping an arm about her waist as they began to spin in the same lazy circles as the other couples. Gold and silver, dark and light, they shone together as they spun about, no needing to speak as breathless laughter sparked between them, Sif’s hands tight around Thor’s waist, Thor’s on her shoulders. They danced and danced, from one song to the next, and never seemed to grow tired. Until finally, they slowed, and came to a stop with the last notes of a song. They were silent for a moment, before bursting into fresh giggles, as they moved towards one of the tables together. Sif poured them both goblets of wine, popping a morsel of bread and cheese into her mouth, before offering the tray to Thor. Thor waved it away, plucking a grape from the bunch beside her instead, before taking the goblet. Sif settled beside Thor, turning her inquisitive, smiling face towards her.

 

“Are you sure I don’t know you?” she asked softly, “I feel like I’ve known you – known you almost forever.”

 

Thor faltered a moment, taking a drink from the goblet to give herself time. “No,” she said at least, lowering the goblet. “I’ve never even been to the palace before.” It was only half a lie, to Thor. Sif leaned in, her curiosity not dampened in the slightest.

 

“In the city, then. Surely somewhere, we must have – ”

 

“There you are!”

 

They were both jolted from the conversation as Loki strode towards them, arms wide as his most infuriating grin on his face. “My beloved companion for the evening! You tell me ‘ _just one or two dances with the other guests’_ , and then I turn around and you’ve been gone for hours!” Loki leant in, offering his hand to Thor. “I do hope you’ve saved some dances for me as well,” he grinned.

 

Sif frowned. “We are talking, Loki – ” she began, but Thor hurriedly stood, recognising the rescue for what it was.

 

“Thank you, S-My lady, for your company,” Thor told her, hand resting atop Loki’s. “I have had a wonderful evening – I really have. It was wonderful to…to meet you. But I am Loki’s guest,” she glanced at her brother, who grinned back, playing his part, “and I mustn’t ignore him for the whole evening.”

 

“She mustn’t,” Loki agreed, and tugged Thor away, even as Sif tried to retort.

 

“Thank you,” Thor told Loki. Loki looked at her, amused. “That’s at least _three_ thank yous just at this ball,” he remarked. “I’m on a winning streak, it seems.” Thor shoved at his should with a roll of her eyes, as they fell into position, hands once again on Thor’s waist, although it felt like they weren’t resting as low as Sif’s had.

 

“I do hope I didn’t cause too much trouble between you and Lady Sif,” Loki remarked, studying Thor’s face. Thor wondered which version he saw. “You were having a lovely time, it seemed. I’d hate to have ruined it.” Thor hesitated to reply, and Loki glanced about them. “No one can hear us,” he told her. “No more than the usual muttering that my pass between dance partners.”

 

Thor huffed. “I fear she is more angry at you than with me,” she admitted. “She doesn’t…Loki, why are you ok with the way people talk about you?”

 

Loki stared at Thor, surprised by the sudden shift in conversation. “You never said anything before,” he said mildly, spinning Thor gently. “The talk is not new.”

 

“I didn’t listen enough before,” Thor said miserably. Whether brother or sister, she was the eldest. She should have protected Loki.

 

Loki was quiet as they moved about the room. “I am who I am,” he said finally. “I like my mischief. I like to do as I please. To be one person one day, to another the next – I like to see their faces, when they are not so clever as they think they are.” That made sense. How often had Loki turned ignorance back on itself and humiliated those who had mocked him and thought themselves superior?

 

“Being someone else is exhausting,” Thor told him. “I’m…I’m myself, but not. Being with Sif like this _was_ wonderful, but the second she wanted to know more…” Thor shook her head. “Lying was so difficult. I suddenly _wasn’t_ myself anymore. I couldn’t be, or she would have known.”

 

“Good thing I was there to save you,” Loki said, smug once more. “Quite the reverse of what Sif imagined.” He turned serious again. “I hope you know you need never pretend with me,” he told Thor, voice firm. “This spell, these clothes – whatever you need, whatever you want, I will do my best. You know I can go places you cannot.”

 

Thor did know. And wondered if Loki knew how much this secret pulled them together too - if he was encouraging it, even. Thor wasn’t wrong that they’d spent more time alone together since Loki’s discovery than they had for years and years. “I know,” she told him, and leant her head on his shoulders. “And I’ll probably thank you again by the time the night is done.” Loki stayed still, before moving his hand to rest comfortingly on Thor’s back.

 

“Careful,” he said, and Thor couldn’t pinpoint his tone. “You’re going to crush your flowers.”

 

~

 

Thor didn’t know how time passed after that – moments seem to stretch for eternity, and yet Loki was guiding her back to his room seemingly after no time at all. They’d danced more, Thor thought, and eaten something. Perhaps a lot of somethings, after so much dancing. She had spent the rest of the evening with Loki, interspersed with amusingly supervised conversations with some of the soldiers, whom Thor found did set sparks in her – just not so many as Sif had. Loki had hovered by Thor’s side, an amusingly stuffy escort guarding Thor jealousy from the soldiers. Thor couldn’t restrain her laughter at how blatant Loki’s teasing was, but the soldiers grumbled at him, trying to ignore him in favour of sweet words for Thor.

 

It was like nothing Thor had ever been a part of before. No matter what happened, she thought sleepily as they entered Loki’s rooms, she had this night. A perfect, glowing night.

 

“You can sleep here,” Loki was saying, fussing over the covers of his bed. “We can share, or I could – I don’t know, conjure another.” he paused, thinking. “I wonder, since you are my sister, if I am unable to force you to sleep on the divan now?” he asked, eyebrow raised. Thor laughed, swaying without Loki’s support.

 

“I’m not _that_ different a person, brother,” Thor told him, drunken wisdom that lodged in her head. “I’m still me,” she repeated, “as I always have been.” Thor pictured Sif in her boots and her tunic, every bit as elegant as in a gown. She wondered if that could be her one day. Secure enough in herself that she could dress as she pleased, love who she pleased, without feeling like a traitor to herself. She didn’t notice Loki still staring at her, only coming out of her reverie when Loki appeared to steer her towards the bed.

 

“Whilst I am delighted to know I may still banish you to sleep off your parties on the divan,” he told her, “tonight at least is my gift to you, and I insist you take the bed.” He glanced over at the divan. “It is not as though it is too small for me to sleep on comfortably.” Thor didn’t fight, instead fussing with the fastenings of the bracelets as Loki tackled the flowers in her hair. Some of them were a little lopsided and battered from the night, but Loki saved a surprising number of intact blooms, placing them in a freshly conjured vase. “Sleep for you,” Loki ordered, the most uncomfortable parts of the outfit off, and Thor obligingly flopped onto the bed.

 

“And for you too,” she murmured, sleepily insistent. Loki rolled his eyes, before reaching out a hand. Thor began to feel the workings of magic over her - the undoing of spells. She was about to sleep, she would not be conscious for the difference, but…

 

Thor’s hand caught Loki’s wrist.

 

“…Sister…”

 

“Leave it.”

 

Thor trembled, and Loki paused, not lowering his hand.

 

“Please. Let me stay like this a little longer.”

 

Loki let out a deep sigh, and lowered his hand, smoothing it over Thor’s hair. “Very well,” he murmured. “A little longer.”

 

And Thor sunk into sleep, Loki’s hand still clasped in hers.


End file.
